{"id":2091,"date":"2016-09-26T17:28:28","date_gmt":"2016-09-27T00:28:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/re-tales.net\/?p=2091"},"modified":"2016-09-26T17:28:28","modified_gmt":"2016-09-27T00:28:28","slug":"amazing-stories-of-saintly-customers","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/re-tales.net\/?p=2091","title":{"rendered":"Amazing Stories Of Saintly Customers"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Some more restaurant stories from Thrillist<\/a>, but this time isn’t not about horrible\u00a0customers<\/a>, it’s about good ones for a change! \u00a0There are considerate people in the world and sometimes working hard and having patience is rewarded. \u00a0I think the best experiences I’ve had were when I had a customer yelling at me or an employee and another customer jumps into the fray and tells them to shut the hell up. \u00a0It’s always fun because they can say to the rude customer the things that you’d like to say but can’t.<\/p>\n

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Crapping on the server is not an ideal date move<\/em><\/h2>\n

“I used to work at a popular Mexican restaurant in Galveston, TX. One afternoon the hostess seated me with two guys who were obviously on a date. The (much) older guy was OK-looking, but the younger fellow was hot with a capital “drool.” The young, hot guy ordered cheese enchiladas and the older guy ordered the taco platter.<\/em><\/p>\n

“All was going fine in my section until I brought out their food. I put the plate of enchiladas in front of young, hot guy and he thanked me. I put down the taco platter in front of older guy and he immediately exploded and jumped right in my shit. ‘I ordered tacos!’ he yelled. I was shocked, but I kept my cool and said, ‘Sir, these ARE tacos.’<\/em><\/p>\n

“‘No they’re not!’ he yelled. ‘Tacos are made with soft flour tortillas!’ Did I mention I brought him crispy-shelled tacos, which were thoroughly described on the menu, and which he had ordered?<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/section>\n

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“By this time half the restaurant was looking at us, and young, hot guy’s face was beet-red. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ I said. ‘I’ll correct it right away.’<\/em><\/p>\n

“I took his platter into the kitchen and explained to the cooks and manager what had happened, that the guy was a dick, and he wanted soft tacos. The kind, understanding cooks made the order right away so I wouldn’t have to deal with older guy complaining about how long it was taking, and brought them out to the table within about five minutes. Seven or so minutes later I stopped by the table with the ‘How is everything?’ speech, and dickhead ignored me but hot guy looked up, smiled, and said, ‘Fine, thank you.’<\/em><\/p>\n

“I wasn’t sure what asshole did for a living but I could hear him talking to hot guy about how great his job was and how important he was. Hot guy was very quiet, ate slowly, didn’t touch his grande margarita, and let dickwad do all of the talking. I brought them the check almost immediately without even offering them dessert, because I could hardly wait for them to get out of there. Wad-boy paid with a credit card and tipped me 8%.<\/em><\/p>\n

“They were getting ready to leave while I was setting the empty table next to them, and dickface said, ‘Are you ready to go to the club?’ Young guy said calmly, ‘I’d prefer that you took me home.’<\/em><\/p>\n

“Shit-heel said, ‘What do you mean?’ The young, ever-so-hot guy became my hero when he said, ‘I don’t want to go out with anyone who would treat a waitress the way you treated ours. In fact, don’t bother taking me home; I’m calling a cab.’<\/em><\/p>\n

“He proceeded to get up, walk to the payphone up front (no cellphones in those days), and call a cab. The scumbag was, to my delight, completely dumbfounded. He sat at the table for a moment then followed hot guy to the front and I watched them outside, my hero calmly waiting for a cab, and the bastard gesticulating like mad, trying to cajole him into not leaving.” — Vanessa Erickson<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/section>\n

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Twenty rowdy Scotsmen walk into a bar…<\/em><\/h2>\n

“I was between regular jobs and working at a sports bar (with a particular niche in soccer) to make a little money until I could find a full-time job. This was my first restaurant job and I had been learning the ropes slowly but surely. Because of this, though, I was given a lot of shifts at odd hours, which meant not very big checks and not very big tips. One night, though, I got to work the dinner hour on a Thursday and had made decent money.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/section>\n<\/div>\n

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